


The Ritual

by buckysknifecollection



Series: Steve Rogers Drabbles [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blood, Death, F/M, Gen, Gore, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sort of..., brief murder, demon!reader, mention of mistreatment and abuse, there's something in his blood but it's not the super soldier serum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29108247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckysknifecollection/pseuds/buckysknifecollection
Summary: After torturing and experimenting on Steve Rogers, Hydra forces him to summon a Demon for them to use.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: Steve Rogers Drabbles [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1483817
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	The Ritual

Out of nowhere, a strong wind breaks through the room, thick black smoke fills the space and an ominous howl follows it. It only lasts a few seconds, but it's enough to chill the blood of the soldiers stationed along the wall.

As your instincts take over and your form adjusts to the world you have been forcefully summoned to, your body appears to be that of a human woman. As the smoke around you dissipates, and all eyes in the room are on you - you know you've made a good choice.

Now, the last few times you've found yourself on Earth, you've ended up in the middle of some grotesque ceremony, people in funny robes and no realisation of the doom they had brought upon themselves. That was always a delicious bloodbath, but this?

This is _unusual_.

Ten men stand around the room, all dressed in black suits, adorned with insignias and multiple weapons. For human standards, they look strong, powerful. They hide their fear well, but you can smell it, you can feel it on the tip of your tongue.

Your bare feet move you across the dirty, cold floor as you scan the room and bask in the sense of absolute terror rolling off every man you approach.

"Hydra welcomes you, Demoness!" One of them speaks, demanding your attention.

You turn towards the tall, sharp looking man, his white hair and round glasses making him look like a typical caricature villain - and oh, have you seen enough of those in your millenia-long lifetime. This one seems to have a strange energy about him, but he is no match for you, though he clearly must think otherwise.

"It is our great honour to finally be in your presence. My name is Daniel Whitehall--"

"Is it you who summoned me?" You interrupt him in his grandiose welcoming speech.

You're tired of his annoying voice, men like him always talk too much. Your question is rhetorical really, you know it was not him. He has no true power over you. Your true summoner is in this very room, but it is not one of these puppets.

The man smiles.

"Hydra uses all means necessary to reach our goals, Demoness." You scoff at his elusive answer. What a waste of time, you think.

It is when you look around again that you notice the tiny creature inside the messy circle of symbols and runes.

The boy lays on the filthy ground, his chest heaving, his clothes are more holes and dirt than fabric, his frame is frail, too small, too weak. But you can sense it, the power that laced with the right words, brought you to this world.

"This boy is just a tool, he is of no use to us anymore." The man continues talking as you approach the boy and kneel in front of him.

You lift his body and cradle him in your arms, his eyes are barely open, unfocused. The poor thing is a thread away from death, and yet, you can sense no fear from him.

Despite feeling unsettlingly light in your hold, you can tell this is no child. As small in frame as he is, he is certainly an adult man, but it is obvious he has not been treated well by these Hydra people. You touch his face, wipe away the tear stains on his cheeks and brush away the matted blonde hair from his forehead.

When you touch his skin, you reach into his mind, the bond of being summoned by this man allows you to do this much easier than with any other creature. Your suspicion is confirmed instantly as you look into his past.

_Steve Rogers_.

A young boy, a horribly weak body, too weak for his strong soul, bedridden for months, only to be taken away by men in black suits. 

A dark cell, a metal bowl that rarely gets refilled, syringes and thick, black liquid. Belts, sticks and fists.

But he still made it this far, and he still feels no fear, not even in the arms of a demon straight from Hell.

"It's alright now, little one." 

You use one of your sharp nails to cut a small wound in the tip of your finger, barely big enough to get a small drop of your powerful blood out before it heals up again. You lift it to the man's lips but before you can touch him, his thin fingers wrap around your wrist with all the remaining strength he has.

" _No_ ," He croaks out. 

You can feel how exhausted he is. You suppose he doesn't want any more foreign substances inside his body. But it is only fair that he gets to see those who mistreated him pay for their sins.

You lick the blood off your finger, then lean in to seal your lips over his. You push your tongue inside his mouth, letting the tiny drop of your powerful blood heal him just enough for him to survive this ordeal.

You sit up with a smile as a rosy blush spreads over the man's face and neck, his body already working hard to return him to health. You gently place him on the ground so he can rest, while you indulge in your favourite pastime.

The white-haired man who thinks he's in charge speaks again but you're not listening to him. Between one step to the next, you take your true form, growing your full height, your horns grazing the ceiling of the room and your tail sending puffs of dust off the floor.

The air stinks of fear and sulfur as the men turn their weapons towards you, but it's useless. Human weapons cannot kill you.

Your long nails take the form of sharp talons, which instantly find home deep in the chest of the annoying yapping man, finally shutting him up. The true fun begins when blood splatters on the walls and floods the floor.

Before you leave the room, you place your summoner on a table in the corner of the room, so he can rest with some dignity, you'd return to him once you've gotten your fill of unrestrained chaos and death. 

Then, you'd show him _true_ power and glory.


End file.
